Too Late To Call Your Name At Night
by Halsey1812
Summary: Harley and the Joker. A new take on Harley's origin. But not really.
1. Welcome to New York

**I only own the story.**

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It wasn't any secret that Dr. Harleen Francis Quinzell went home alone. Or maybe it was. Sure, she knew how people talked about her. They called her stupid, slut, probably worse. Whatever.

She sat her purse and tote on a chair beside her front door. Shrugging out of her coat, Harley walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of red wine. She started to feel better at the first sip.

It's not like she wasn't used to being the joke, the dumb blonde, the little harlequin, and she could play the part well. She wasn't like that, though. She had graduated from medical school at the top of her class, and she did it without having sex with anyone. And this job at Arkham Asylum? Yeah, that was all skill. The medical director had tried to get up her skirt, but she let him know pretty quick that she would break whatever bone happened to rub up against her.

Harley walked through her apartment into her bathroom. The big tub had been a splurge. Hell, the apartment had been a splurge; her car had been a splurge, most of her wardrobe…. She was in debut up to her bottle blonde head. She had an image to promote. The tub though, that was the most important one. Turning on the tap (and turning it up as hot as it would go), she poured in some oil, stripped out of her constricting suite, and sank into the heated water. Wine glass still in hand, naturally.

And now, to top off everything, her most current client was none other than the Clown Prince of Crime himself. The Joker.

Watching the steam curl off the water, she thought about how she was going to structure her notes.

 ** _Client presents as a white (more like porcelain), unmarried (and uncommitted-relationship wise, anyway) male in his early forties (that was just a guess by the staff, she didn't think he looked a day over thirty). Client stated his distrust for the clinical staff (right off the bat, no holds barred) and his desire to be released (and for release if she was going to put everything he said into her report). Client stated he was not guilty of the crimes he was charged with; instead saying that he was purging the city. Client used the phrase "natural selection." Client stated that he loved to laugh, and preferred to be surrounded by humor at all times. Client stated he spends a great deal of time on his plans and does not act quickly. Client stated his intense dislike for the Batman, and grew agitated upon discussion of his most current capture and commitment to the asylum._**

 ** _Client presented as very relaxed throughout the session as evidenced by client's constant use of jokes, sarcasm, and puns as well as his laughter at himself. Client smiled the whole time, even when retelling the more gruesome parts of the crimes against him._**

Harley paused and took another sip of wine. Her co-workers described his laugh as maniacal. She would call it sad, though. He seemed lonely. Guess it took one to know one. And his smile, it wasn't evil. It was actually very handsome at times. He had moments where he would be serious, and she found it very attractive.

She was probably going crazy.

But in all earnestness, the Joker had a passion for what he did. It was completely demented, but it made sense in a way. He was probably acting out due to his lack of parental influence. She would work on boundaries with him. Maybe do a little trauma work. EMDR. CBT. Sedatives…

She sank lower in the tub.

Honestly, she was attracted to him. Turned on. Whatever you want to call it. She had always been attracted to the pretty boys- the Bruce Wayne types- but the Joker…there was just something about him. His smile maybe, or his eyes, his hands, the way he was surprisingly muscular…

Ignoring the tiny flicker of guilt in her stomach, she slid her hand under the water and let it rest on the top of her thigh. She liked his voice. It sounded like he had swallowed gravel and followed it with a spoonful of honey. She let her hand slid down the inside of her thigh.

She liked his hands, too. They were strong, lean, like the hands of a pianist. Harley imagined his touch would be gentle- at first. It was easy to imagine how his fingers would feel traveling down her thigh to her hip, feathering across her stomach…

But his hands weren't always so relaxed. During their session he was constantly flexing his fingers into fists like he wanted to hit her. She sank her nails into the flesh of her inner thigh. He would probably be incredibly ruthless. She grinned. Most boys were soft and sweet, kissing when she wanted to bite. But the Joker…he would know just what to do.

She quickly moved her fingers between her legs. He wouldn't take his time. He would just take her. Harley circled her clit with her fingers, slowly for just a second, and then increasing speed. She felt her body squirm under her hand and imagined him on top of her. Her hips lifted up, and she could feel his meet them. She imagined his lips on hers, and how he would move his mouth to her breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth, between his teeth…

Harley set down her wine glass and let her other hand drop in the water. The Joker would be impatient. He had been very specific about how long it had been since he lost himself in a woman. Too long, if she was offering commentary, but that wasn't her job. With her fingers still moving in circles, she sank two fingers inside her, moving them in and out to match her other hand. She felt her heart beat race and her muscles tighten. She imagined his voice, urging her along, calling her his, telling her to let go.

With a low moan, Harley did just that. The orgasm hit her with a quiet intensity she wasn't used to. It had to be him. He was a quiet intensity she wasn't used to. Sighing, she leaned back against the edge of the tub. This wasn't going to be great for therapeutic alliance.

But what could she say? The guy just did it for her.


	2. Bad Blood

I only own the story.

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"And you," he spun on his heel and pointed at the two burly men against the opposite wall, "Did nothing! Just stood there. Watching as Bats dropped in!" He clenched his fist and strode over to them. "What're you good for anyway?" He yelled in their faces.

She watched as he continued to shout at them. She pretended not to hear the insults-the shame and guilt. She saw him pull a gun out of his waistband. She shut her eyes as tight as they could go. And she managed not to cringe when she heard the gun go off. Twice.

"Open your eyes, Harley." He grabbed her arm as he walked out of the room. "You just can't find good help these days." He giggled and tightened his grip on her as he shoved her into the car. Coming around to the other side, he got in, slammed the door, and pointed at the driver. "Go."

Leaning her forehead against the cool window, she kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to say anything when he was in this kind of mood.

"What could you possibly be looking at?" He sneered, grabbing a pigtail and pulling her head around so she was looking at him.

Harley reached up and gently untangled her hair from his fingers. "The city."

"Oh, of course! This jewel of a place! Home sweet home, eh, toots!" Laughing he pulled harder on her hair she that her head was in his lap. "Why don't you make use of your time and make Daddy's day a little better."

She sighed and quietly said, "Not now, J."

The next thing she knew her head as slamming into the window so hard she was sure it would shatter. "Not now?" He chuckled. "I wasn't asking you a question, Harley."

Cradling her head in her hands, she pushed back the tears. That's what he wanted, what he always wanted; to see her cry.

"Let's see it, Harley Girl." Grabbing her chin, he wrenched her head to an unnatural angle. "Didn't even break skin. I'll have to try harder next time." Giggling, he let go and she let her head drop.

Twenty minutes later the car pulled up to the old movie theatre. Opening her door, she headed in. It was cold inside. She went straight to her room. As she was changing her clothes, she heard him come up behind her.

"Come on, Harls…" The Joker drawled, "Don't be so sour with me."

She felt his hands around her waist and his warm breath on her neck. She closed her eyes and leaned back against him.

"I'm just trying to make this world we live in a little better. Natural selection. If they weren't so stupid, they'd still be alive." His lips were resting against her temple. "And you know I'd never hurt you on purpose. I just get so," his hands tightened on her hips, "caught up in the moment."

He spun her around and pushed her against the wall. Her head swam from the recent blow, and she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. "Mister J," she shut her eyes, "I need a minute."

"Need a minute?" she heard the scowl in his voice. "Are you telling me no?"

She knew she was in danger of his temper by the tone of his voice. "Of course not, Mistah J," she let her voice drop into the accent he liked so much. "I'd never say no to you!" Harley dropped her hands to his chest and undid the first few buttons on his shirt. "I just need a few minutes to freshen up. I wanna be the best I can be for my puddin'," she purred.

"Oh, Harley." Joker's hand moved up from her hip to her throat before she knew what was happening. "Don't you think I know when you're lying?" He giggled, "And don't you know what happens when you lie?" He started to squeeze.

Harley's hands tried to pull his away, "J, stop, please."

"J, stop, please," he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "I will never stop, Harley. And you will learn your place. If I have to kill you for it."

She felt him slowly start to crush her windpipe. She couldn't breathe. Her vision was going cloudy. All she could hear was his giggle. That damn giggle. Not knowing what else to do, she kicked out as hard as she could.

"Bitch," he gasped as he doubled over.

Gasping, Harley felt her knees go weak. She leaned against the wall and tried to get her balance.

"You don't disrespect Daddy like that!" He grabbed her arm and jerked her to the ground. "You know better!" Grabbing a pigtail, he slammed her head into the wall.

Harley screamed.

Joker laughed.

Harley felt blood running down her face. Frantically, she reached up and used her nails to claw at anything she could find. It was enough to make him let go of her hair. Pushing herself off the ground she saw him lunge at her. With everything she had, she threw a punch. It hit him on the cheek with enough force to knock him to the ground. No waiting to see if he got back up, she ran to the other side of the room where she had a bag packed for emergencies. Because when things got bad, she left. And things were about to get very bad.

"That's right, Harleen. Run to that weedy whore. You'll be back. You _need_ me!" he yelled, still on the ground.

She spun around. "I don't need a damn thing from you! I can take care of myself."

"You wouldn't last a day, truly on your own, doll. You need a keeper."

"Fuck you. You are not my keeper."

"I made you!" he stood up and started walking towards her. "Without me you would be nothing! Still in debt! Still at Arkham! Still on your back for that god forsaken boss of yours!"

That was it. Harley grabbed her bag, flipped him her middle finger, and strode out of the room, grabbing her costume and gun on the way.

"You'll be back Harley! You always come back!"

She heard his maniacal laughter all the way out of the building.


	3. Blank Space

**I only own the story.**

* * *

Harley stopped outside the door to her office and let her hand rest on the cold metal. She could hear him in there, humming to himself, probably rocking back and forth with his eyes closed. He dissociated beautifully, and that was probably why none of the gruesome things he did really affected him.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

"Dr. Q." The Joker greeted her with a quiet chuckle. "It's not polite to keep people waiting."

With a smile on her face, she took him in for a moment. He was handcuffed to the chair, so he hadn't bothered to turn around. His long legs were stretched out if front of him, ankles crossed, and his hair was a bit disheveled- like he had been running his fingers through it. Her own fingers flexed involuntarily, wishing they could curl in in the dark strands as his face was buried between her legs…

"Hey, toots! Snap out of it!" He jerked around in his chair. "The good tax payers of Gotham want to make sure that I get my full hour! You should…" He trailed off when their eyes met. A grin spread across his face, slow and heavy like honey. "What's the joke, Doc?"

Letting her own smile fall she straightened her should and walked over to her desk.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting. I was taking a second to collect myself before we began. I wasn't aware you were already in here." She placed a set of green folders down on her desk and settled in her chair. "How have you been today?"

"Peachy keen, Doc. He leaned back in the chair and propped his feet up on her desk.

"Get off," she said immediately.

He laughed. "I'd love to, Harley Q, you offering your services?" He laughed harder.

She sighed, "I should have asked kinder. It is a pet peeve of mine when people put their feet on furniture."

He dropped his feet. "I respect that. Manners. Important."

"In addition," she tapped her fingers on her desk, "You will refer to me as Dr. Quinzell. I am not your friend. I am your psychiatrist."

"Touchy," He grinned and winked. "What's on the agenda?"

"Electric shock," she muttered as she made a note in his folder.

"A massage for your brain!" he cackled.

Harley looked at him from over the top of her glasses. What was she going to do with him? She snickered. She could think of a few things. "How have things been going for you in Arkham?"

"Not well, if I'm being honest. You'd think these apes would allow such a high profile inmate, like myself, a little freedom. A little yard time, so to speak. But, no! I'm locked in that cell day in and day out. Think you could pull a few strings, Doc?"

"We'll see how things go." She made a note in his chart. Technically, he was supposed to be getting out of his cell for an hour every day, but she knew most of the staff was terrified of him.

"Hmm. Based on good behavior? Because I'm very good at behaving." His voice dropped low for the nonsense comment.

"Actually, sir, I would appreciate cooperation more than any kind of behavior." She would not let herself be pulled into that.

"Sir? How delightful!" He sat up straighter. "It's nice to see there's someone in here who understands."

"Understands what, exactly?"

"We're all human here. Well, some more than others," his eyes went to the ceiling for a moment before coming back down to meet hers. "But no need to be so formal. My friends call me J."

"J." Harley smiled, "Alright, Mr. J. Why don't you tell me what would make your stay here more comfortable. In reason, of course."

"Of course." He leaned back in his chair, grin growing. "I think-"

There was a heavy knock on the door, and three armed guards stepped inside. "Dr. Quinzell, Dr. Sinner has called a meeting with the clinical staff. He asked us to come collect your patient."

Harley stood, "A meeting? I still have over an hour left of my session. I plan on finishing it."

"It's mandatory ma'am." He shrugged. "Just following orders."

Harley weighed her options. She could refuse, really make a name for herself (and not in a good way), and possible be taken off this case and all future ones (so her reasoning was a little catastrophic), or agree and find out what all of this was about. "Fine. But I will be completing this session at the end of the day."

"Yes, ma'am." The guard approached her and handed her a syringe. "If you wouldn't mind."

It took a moment for Harley to realize she was holding a sedative for the Joker so that the three heavily armed men could take him back to his cell. "This is not protocol." She commented, still looking at the drug. "This is no where in his chart."

"It makes it easier, Doctor. Most of the others help us out like this."

"No." She wouldn't be one of the others. "If you get it added to his chart, but not otherwise." She walked over to her desk, but the syringe in the drawer, and locked it behind her. "Mr. J, I'm afraid we'll have to cut our session into two parts today. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"No worries, Doc." He looked at the guards, "I just get to hang out with some old chums."

Harley raised her eyebrows, "Behavior," she reminded him.

Joker started to laugh. She could still hear it as the guards escorted him down the hall.


End file.
